


Say It Ain't So

by deltachye



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Pining, Reader-Insert, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, hehehehhehehhheheheh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x sakyo furuichi]I can't confront you, I never could doThat which might hurt you, so try and be cool
Relationships: Furuichi Sakyou/Reader, Furuichi Sakyou/Tachibana Izumi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

Having the Director frantically text him to come to her room— _alone, ASAP!!!!!_ —wasn’t something he was expecting.

It was a weekend. Most of the school-aged students had apparently taken a group bonding excursion out to the town. The adults were unwinding on their own time. He’d been reading when his phone buzzed, nearly taking a suicide dive off the table as it vibrated towards the edge. She’d given him no context except a palpable sense of urgency.

Was she in trouble? Something else? He steeled himself for the worst and headed upstairs, knocking on the door—though not without hesitating first. Nobody answered.

“Director, it’s me.”

“Come in—but close the door behind you.”

He did so, worried that he’d walk into her dying on the floor or something. The sight was far more stupendous, and he froze.

“So, I got stuck, and I need help. Zip me up?”

“…what?”

“I just explained it. Are you deaf?” she snapped at him crossly. Her face was a warm pink, but that wasn’t what he was staring at—he had never seen the Director do up her hair and make-up like this. Not even during closing nights or press conferences. Everything about her was sultry and dark while simultaneously radiant, with a small sheen of golden glitter that made his heart tremble stupidly in his chest.

“Sakyo,” she groaned, and his name felt like fire going into his ears from her cherry-stained lips. “You can make fun of me later, but my arm’s cramping and I’m going to be late. Can you please help me?”

“Fine, whatever.” He shook himself out of his delirium and stepped forwards. Locks of curled hair obscured the backing she was struggling with.

“Just zip it up.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he retorted peevishly. With the utmost care he shifted her hair over her shoulder, trying not to think about how impossibly soft it draped over his fingers. The zipper was stuck in the middle. The dark red fabric exposed her bare back, pale and smooth—with a painful revelation he realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Isn’t this a sign that you don’t fit?” he asked nastily. “You ought to lose some weight.” But he didn’t really mean it. He was just using the last remnants of wit he had to keep his cool. Embarrassed, but glad he was behind her and not in her field of view, he took the tiny zipper in his fingers and bucked it up. There was a lot of resistance and nothing budged.

“Ha ha, very funny. Push the sides in?”

He took her advice, but it meant touching her more closely. With his non-dominant hand, he squeezed the fabric closer together, and with the other he guided the actual zipper up to her nape. Finally, at the last stretch it glided up all the way and he was done. He backed off quickly after securing the clip, the heat of her body still stinging on his fingertips. She flicked her hair out and the motion completely slammed him with an almost cloying sugary perfume.

“Ugh, thanks. I was so screwed.”

“Why didn’t you ask anybody else?” he demanded, actually curious to know why _he_ had been delegated to this humiliating role of Zipper Boy.

“You were the only other guy I was comfortable asking. So thanks.” She leant over her night stand, stacking shiny bracelets onto her wrists. When she was finished she put her hands on her hips and posed. “How do I look?”

“Who’s this for?” he asked, hoping he sounded wryer than he did jealous.

“Some guy you wouldn’t know,” she glossed over. She toyed with a gold earring. “You think it’s okay? Is it too much? I haven’t gone out in a while…”

He could continue to make fun of her, but something stopped him. Inhaling deeply, he spoke softly, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear.

“You look amazing. He’d be stupid not to see that you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” She looked startled and her face quickly split out into a grin, the stupidly goofy ones he could see her make at their practices. “Wow. Who knew you had nice words in you?”

“Get out of here,” he scowled, rubbing his forehead in a last-ditch effort to hide his face. “Didn’t you say you were going to be late?”

“Shoot—right! See ya’.”

“Yeah.”

He watched her go and then stood alone in her room. There were still delicate notes of cranberry and jasmine in the air. Looking down at his hands, he watched them tremble. He closed his large hand into a silent fist.

How pathetic of him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on, Sakyo. Please?”

He stared at her clasping her hands together in the doorway of his room. Unable to help himself, he raised a stern eyebrow.

“Why the hell would you ask _me_ to a mixer?”

“None of my girlfriends are free,” she explained hurriedly, sensing that she was onto a thread of reluctance. “And I can’t go alone. I’ll do anything in return.”

“Anything?” he replied, catching onto the word curiously. Her expression faltered before she nodded resolutely. 

“Anything _legal_.”

“Deal. I’m holding you to it.” Still, it was an unbelievably odd request. “Were Nanao and Miyoshi busy or something?

“Nanao’s a minor. And Miyoshi acts like a child. Before you say it, everybody of age declined or was busy, so you were my last hope. Also, Sakoda cleared your schedule, so you have no excuses.”

“Thank you,” he retorted sarcastically, “I love to hear that I’m a last resort.” Then, “what do you mean Sakoda cleared my schedule?”

“He said he’d shuffle things around for me so that you could enjoy a night out.”

“That moron,” he groaned, already hearing the cheery _aye-aye, sir!_ in the back of his head. “What, does he take orders from you, now…?

“Anyways, it starts at eight. I’ll see you in a few!”

“Whatever,” he muttered in return, rolling his eyes. She grinned and walked away, back to her own room. He closed the door and stared down at the handle. He was a good actor, sure but even he couldn’t shit himself and say that he wasn’t _jealous_ anymore. 

[Name] wasn’t the same little girl he remembered; she could date casually or do whatever she wanted without his input. She was her own woman now. Still… it hurt his chest. It flared up like a burn all across his skin. She was too far out of his reach, even when she was finally here. It was all a little unfair. Maybe that’s just penance. 

The izakaya was a short walk away. He hadn’t changed his attire much, wearing the same dark work clothes he usually did. She, on the other hand, had dressed up from the jeans and t-shirts she wore to rehearsals. It reminded him of the night he’d helped her into her dress, though she was wearing something different today—this garment was longer, less revealing, trending towards the classic style. It lent more to the imagination than the last. 

“By the way,” she added abruptly as they waited at a crosswalk together. “Try not to scare anybody. Okay, Yakuza-san?”

“Call me that again and I’ll show _you_ what you need to be afraid of.”

“You’re hopeless, Sakyo,” she sighed with a wry smile, walking forwards as the light changed. It didn’t seem like she meant it seriously, and he would never admit it, but the words stung. Was that a sign that he really didn’t have a chance to be with her?

It was stupid of him to keep a crush on his childhood friend and first love. It hadn’t been a continuous one, but after reuniting with her, it felt like everything he remembered about his first encounter with love was falling into place. She was bright and passionate and likable. She put up a fight against him. She made him feel little butterflies in his stomach every time she smiled. She made him want to know her, more and more, until there was nothing left to know. How unremarkably cheesy—he knew that full well already. 

And yet here he was, third wheeling the woman he loved at a gathering with people he had an easy decade on. 

He drank lightly but kept to himself, responding enough to be polite but coolly enough to show that he was disinterested. It was just a matter of running the hourglass down. But [Name] had gotten caught up in some drinking game while he wasn’t paying attention, and it didn’t seem like she was doing very well.

“Oi,” he muttered disgruntledly in her ear as the waitress collected people’s plates. She swung her head towards him clumsily and he scowled. “Lay off the booze, would you? I’m not carrying you home.”

“Hm? Jealous, Sakyo-kun?”

The declaration and honourific was so sudden and strange that he was at a total loss for words. Jealous of what? That she had the face of a lobster blanched in its soupy resting place? Or was he jealous of the men eagerly sidling up to her? He _had_ noticed her popularity, even if he hadn’t said anything.

“Oh man; you’ve got to work on your poker face,” she laughed. “I’ll make you a routine or sumn’.”

The night was unbearably long. All he could do was watch her, flirting, interested in and garnering the interests of others… and sit there. He could be the one chatting her up if that’s what she wanted. He wasn’t the talkative type, but for her, he could think of a million and one things to say. They could play cards all she liked if she’d laugh hysterically like that in front of him. He’d throw any match for it. It was around the time when he thought that he couldn’t stand being here anymore that he saw a man wrap his arm around her, hand cupping a breast.

He rose to action without fully meaning to and slapped his arm away. She looked up at him, eyes wide and bleary. Of course she hadn’t noticed; this _idiot_.

“What the hell, dude?” the scrawny young adult demanded, gesturing aggressively. An awkward hush fell over the entire booth.

“We’re going home,” Sakyo announced curtly, wrapping his arm around her waist and hoisting her to her feet. She tilted her head lopsidedly, so out of it that he had no idea if she even knew what was going on. 

“I don’t think you’ve got any right to be kidnapping [Name]-chan,” he sneered, standing up also. “It ain’t fair to the guys she’s actually into, geezer.”

Sakyo glared back down at the pathetically posturing boy. “ _[Name]-chan_ ’s pretty stupid. I’m sure you wouldn’t miss her. Besides, she’s _mine_ , so we will be leaving.”

“You—!”

“I _am_ yakuza, you know. I’m not fucking around. If you truly want to start a fight with me, you’ve got five seconds to speak up.”

Finally, the boy gulped and shamefully averted his gaze. Passing a wad of yen to the waitress, who was gawking to the side in fear, he excused himself with [Name] in tow.

“Sakyo, the _one_ thingk I told you to do was not get yakuza-y everywhere!”

“It’s _your_ fault,” he snarled, whirling around and letting go of her wrist. She staggered on the sidewalk, forcing him to reach out and re-steady her with both hands. He glowered down through the night glare, her face so warm he felt the waves radiate onto his own skin. “You’re so naïve that you’d let yourself get hurt. It’s your fault I can’t think about anything else but those _boys_ getting close to you, that I can’t focus in practice, that I…” He exhaled sharply. There was no use ranting about it to her while she was plastered, and he let go. “We’re going. Walk.”

“No way… you’re totally jealous. I knew it.” 

He kept his mouth shut as she plodded forward towards him. But his eyes widened in alarm.

“Hey, what do you think you’re—!?”

She grabbed onto the front of his coat, her fingers tightening around the lapels as she leant onto him with all her weight. On her tippy-toes, she peered up into his eyes, squinting in the fluorescent lamp light.

“If you were gonna call me ‘yours’ in the first place, you should’ve just said so.”

“What?” 

He gaped, surprised that she managed to hold onto a memory in this state. Her sleepy smile widened, and his heart raced in its panicked flurry.

“I’ve been pining after you _forever_!” she groaned, slurring dramatically. “Did you ever pay attention to me? _No_ … so I just gave up ‘cos I thought you weren’t interested in me. So. I tried making you jealous.”

“You asked me out to make me jealous?” he repeated, incredulously. Her brow furrowed.

“Duh… you were giving out the sixed mignals…”

“You’re starting to sound like Citron.” He sighed and propped her up onto her own feet, forcing her weight off of him. Holding her by the shoulders, he could feel how light and delicate she was. “You’re not going to remember a thing by tomorrow, are you?”

“No, sir…”

“So I can tell you, then?” he murmured, tenderly, _selfishly_ , reaching past her rosy ears to pull back the curled strand in front of her race. Her face was dewy. Impossibly soft on the backs of his fingers. “That I love you.”

“Speak up, Sakyo-kun, I can’t even hear you…”

Somehow, his confession made his heart hurt worse than it already was.


	3. Chapter 3

It was complete silence in the car besides for the gentle purr of the engine. Sakyo tightened his grip on the wheel, sparing a glance to his left. [Name] had her arms crossed, a frown scrawled on her face. Her eyes drifted over and he looked away before they could make eye contact.

“So, we’re just not going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he replied curtly. She scowled, the expression practically audible.

“Apparently there is, Mr. Cold Shoulder. Omi had to kick your ass out just so that you’d talk to me!”

“Fushimi meddles too much,” he muttered, albeit a bit guiltily. [Name] clicked her tongue.

“…forget it. I’m not going to force you to talk. You’re an adult.”

“What do you want from me?” he demanded, staring forwards at the road furiously. 

“I want you to _acknowledge_ what happened.”

He took a deep breath to steady himself, knowing that lashing out wasn’t going to help. They probably should’ve just walked, but that damn Fushimi had basically forced them out into a confined space, hoping that the two would come back unscathed.

After he’d practically carried her back into her room that night, he’d foolishly believed that she wouldn’t remember what he’d said. Apparently, he was wrong, and now he was dealing with the consequences of running his mouth. Despite the fact that he knew she knew, and she knew that he knew she knew… she refused to make things easy for him.

“You’re the one who sounds like a kid here.”

“I…” With a sigh, she turned away. More silence.

Fantastic idea, Fushimi. This is working so well.

“How long are you going to torture me for?” he finally exploded, unable to keep it buried any longer. “Do what you want with other men. Is that what you want to hear? Just _leave me out of it_ , for God’s sake.”

“‘Do what I want’… so you’re _not_ interested in me.”

He was going to lose his mind. Jerkily, he ignored the honk of somebody he cut off and parked the car haphazardly. Turning to face her, he was half a neurotic breakdown away from grabbing her shoulders and shaking answers out of her. 

“I have feelings for you. Romantic ones. I hate seeing you bring other men home. It kills me when I see you flirt with other people. I want you to myself. Is that what you want from me? Do you want to castrate me further?”

“Jesus, Sakyo, it’s not that deep.” She raised her eyebrows, her hands dropping into her lap. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“…oh.” He leant back into his seat, sucking back the breath he’d ridden his spiel out on. His heart rate settled, and he was able to see clearly again. “Sorry.”

“I figured it’d work eventually, but you’re so damn slow on the uptake.”

His brow twitched. “You mean you _wanted_ this to happen?”

“Well, I hoped that you’d stop me earlier, but you’re so damn stubborn.” She leant over the transmission, a strand of hair slipping out of the low pony tail she’d tucked her hair into. He shot backwards, feeling the seat belt lock in complaint.

“If I told you that I liked you, you never would’ve done anything. Knowing you, you’d have pulled the _I’m no good for you_ bullshit. Am I right?” 

The embarrassingly poor imitation of him aside, she _was_ in a sense correct. If she had come up to him and said something like that, he’d have no idea what he’d do, but he surely wouldn’t have acted on his own feelings. How could he? He had something like a decade on this girl. Not to mention his day job, which quite literally involves organized crime, an—

“I don’t want a saint, Sakyo.” She placed the palm of hand onto his jaw and despite its warmth, he shivered. Her voice was gentle and calm. “I want you.”

He exhaled shakily, placing his hand over hers and pulling her away. He kept her hand in his, barely, not even daring to curl his fingers. “Are you sure?” he warned, lowly. “I won’t let you take it back.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, though the tone of impatience wasn’t lost. Finally, _finally_ , he allowed himself to relax around her and allowed his hand to entwine with hers. 

“Took you long enough,” she chastised, but she was grinning. “It was impossible trying to find ways to trick you into confessing to me.”

“You could’ve just come clean. I’ve lost years off my life because of you.”

“Oh, darling, say it ain’t so.”

He leant forwards, interrupting another (probably insulting) speech of hers. She froze, her mouth half-open with a forgotten word. The power washed over him with a chill as he touched his forehead to hers, the tip of her nose brushing his as she froze in place.

“I like you too much for my own good.”

She sighed, letting her eyes flutter shut. Her smile was surprisingly pure. The words brushed against their kiss:

“God, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/


End file.
